Through The Camera Lens
by heycupcake915
Summary: Peeta has alway felt like he could be better understood through the camera lens, not words. Katniss, although she has a beautiful voice, can't be heard at all. But when both of them are partnered up through the CAMP scholarship, will they be able to finally be heard? No HG AU. Everlark.
1. Chapter 1: Meet Peeta Mellark

**Hey guys! Cupcake here with a brand new story in the Huger Games fandom! This idea has been in my head for a while now and I decided I wanted to share it with all of you. I take requests and I will do the best to implement your ideas into my story. Along for the ride is my fabulous beta, . If you've read my previous stories, she's a fun-loving, free-wheeling grammar Nazi who is also a great writer. All of her fans [myself included] are excited about her new story How To Save A Life. While you're waiting for her ridiculously long update time, check out her previous story Glad You Came. This is a SAD Percabeth fic that involves an anorexic dancing Annabeth [le gasp]. It's very well done and I'm sure she would appreciate some reviews, so take it from me and CHECK HER OUT. **

**This story is in both Katniss and Peeta POV's, and if you've read my other stories there WILL be FLUFF. This first chapter is only in Peeta POV but Katniss is up next. This will be a long story, so hop on the Cupcake Cruise for a good time. This story is rated K+ for not so graphic abuse and some occasional language. NO F-bombs, but you know they are teenagers living a hard life, so it's not all rainbows and sunshine. I'd say if your over eight you should be fine. In this story Peeta is like Katniss in the sense that he feels emotionally detached from most social situations and that he'd rather be alone. Katniss is slightly more outgoing and friendly, specifically towards Peeta. She's more open about her talent, but not cocky at all. I wanted to write a school story that actually meant something but still had that casual feel to it, especially because it is told in the POV of Katniss and Peeta. There are no Hunger Games but the districts are more or less the same. **

**Be sure to check out my review on Percy Jackson and The Olympians: The Sea Of Monsters. In Theaters August 7****th****, starring Logan Lerman and Alexandra Daddario. According to beaner. weener, it's funny but you'll have to see for yourself.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. If I did, I would be middle-aged and definitely NOT writing fanfiction. I don't own Katniss Everdeen. If I did, I would jump for joy and then kill her for…reasons. I don't own Peeta Mellark, if I did, he would be a married man, and I'm not talking about Katniss, guys.**

_**MEET PEETA MELLARK**_

To some degree, I've always felt like I didn't belong. Whether it was at school or at home, I always felt removed, out of place, although others saw the opposite. They saw the popular wrestler, with tons of friends, good grades, and the perfect life. The baker's son, with no worries of starvation or illness. They saw Peeta Mellark, the persona, but I never really felt like anyone _knew_ me. If they did, my façade would crumble. I would lose everything. The false life and reputation I have carefully built up over the years would all come crashing down, and would lose the comfort of being thought of being normal, even though I know I'm not. See, I have a secret.

I love photography.

Ok, go ahead, point your fingers. But sometimes, when things get bad with my mom [we'll revisit this ticking time bomb later], all I want to do is create the perfect picture. The beauty and simplicity of a good photograph is sometime enough to mask my pain.

I've always related to the camera. It stands all alone, by itself, capturing moments of passion, love, and happiness but never actually experiencing the joy of anything. All it gets is tiny, blissful moments of borrowed kindness, encased in hardworking, unattractive hardware that's covered by perfectly shiny aluminum. And you can just tell by the quick whirl of its gears that it wants to get out and just _feel._ Anguish and sorrow and pain, but also love and light. But it can't. It's trapped in its own taunting, cruel prison, until one day it just can't take it anymore. It dies. Completely loses its purpose and just shuts down, taking all the carefree smiles and goofy faces with it. I was constantly looking at life through a camera lense, detached from the rest of the world.

The one thing I wanted, more than Katniss Everdeen [yet another enigma of my life], was the C.A.M.P scholarship. Creative Arts Music and Performance. The recipients were sent to study their art of choice at Panem University, the best school for the arts in the entire world. They trained under the best career and life coaches known to man, Effie Trinket and Hamitch Abernathy. Free housing and talent agents are also provided with the deal. If you're picked, there's pretty much a guarantee you're gonna get rich and famous. I'm applying, as well as hundreds of other from my hometown, District 12. My major is photography and cinematography, with a minor in painting, as I enjoy that as well. When you apply, the applications are sent to the Capitol, the center of Panem. Effie and Haymitch read and views them all, and six are selected from each district, boiling down to 72 fiercely competitive, talented young artists. They work together everyday, and each one is partnered up with another. The idea of the pairs is that each one goes together, say a singer and guitair player. Most branch off on their own after the program ends, but a few stick together their entire careers. Romantic relationships are common, as Effie is quite the matchmaker, but they don't usually last. I know that many are applying, but I don't know what for. But Katniss Everdeen is applying for singing, with a minor in dancing and modeling. My greatest dream is to be partnered with her, to paint and film and photograph to my hearts content.

Katniss Everdeen. The one constant in my turbulent existence. I first saw her when we were in the same kindergarten class, and I was immediately in love. Her mom used to be in love with my dad, but when she met Jack Everdeen, it was over between them. Katniss got her beautiful voice from him, because when he sang, the birds stopped to sing.

Her father died when she was eleven and her mother started watching Looney Tunes soon after. She has a younger sister, Primrose, who she supports by herself with her job at the local cabaret, The Hob. Primrose dances beautifully and is also applying for C.A.M.P. Katniss lives in the poorest part of the district, the Seam, but she has the voice of an angel, can dance like Ginger Rogers, and has a beautiful [although somewhat gaunt] body. She sings at all of our assemblies, and she is truly enchanting. Everyone says she sounds like a mockingjay, this really rare bird that can echo back songs and phrases if they like them. Her stage presence is fantastic, giving off this "look at me" air, but not in that super obvious way. The only time where I feel truly safe and comfortable at school is when she's on stage, performing her heart out at afternoon assembly. And she feels the same. She always smiles shyly at me in the halls, but our only personal interaction was when we were both eleven.

Her father had just passed away, and she was in a bad way. Her mom was checked out and she had a six year old to take of with no source of income. She was walking by the bakery, trying to sell some ragged old baby clothes, when I heard her cries as the rain beat down on her shivering form. My mother had just walked in when I impulsively dropped the bread, thinking of Katniss 's beautiful voice going hoarse from lack of food or water. She looked at me and then at the now scorched bread. After yelling at me 'till I was shaking, she told me to go feed it to the pigs we kept outside the bakery. When I saw staring longingly at the unwanted bread, I couldn't bear throwing it to the pigs, who were getting more food than she was at that point, while she was sitting there, desperately hungry for a better life. So I threw her the bread quickly and not very accurately. But I didn't have time to linger, for my mother had been watching me throw away the bread, as if she was afraid I would mess that up too. She gave me a stern look and proceeded to pull me back inside by my collar. I got one of the worst beatings of my life that day. I had to stay home a full week from school, which really killed me because I couldn't check on Katniss.

The day I got back, I saw here singing in the streets, to a very large crowd, I might add. That's when I knew my mockingjay would be alright.

Although my relationship with my mother was toxic, and my brothers weren't much better, my dad was my best friend. He taught me how to bake and how to love. My father is probably the reason I'm not so bitter after all these years of constant abuse. He taught me that you just have to fight fire with fire. Kill their hate with love. I had nothing but good things to say about my mother, even if they weren't true. And I told her every day, how pretty she looked, how nice she was, what a great Mom she was to us kids. She hated me even more for it. It became sort of a coping mechanism for me, rather than defense. So I started to implement it into my every day life. That's why they all love me. Because of my kindness. And it may seem like I'm tooting my own horn here, but I really don't think being nice is all that great. Incredible, inspirational people didn't climb their way to the top because they were nice. They made it 'cause they were good enough to. Katniss certainly didn't get to where she is today by being the most angelic girl around. She got there with work.

So I try to do as much as I can to be exactly like her. Because honestly, other than my dad, she feels like the only person out there I can truly worship. When I look at her, I see a strong, beautiful, independent woman who doesn't need anyone. She doesn't even have friends, now that her best friend Gale is out of school. And I've seen what he's like. Needless to say, I can't help but feeling lonely for her, even though I know she doesn't mind. She just looks so bare. Not like plain, bare. But bare in the way that she doesn't have anybody to look after _her._ I long to be that person, the one she turns to in times of need, when she just can't take it anymore. But I know she'd never let anyone take care of her, especially me. That's why I want her to be my partner, if we both make it. So I can take care of her. And she of me. I think since the bread incident, we both felt the obligation to not necessarily take care of one another but to keep tabs on each other, look out for each. Simple things like helping cleaning up a mess, or standing up to my friends, or even the occasional smile I get from her can brighten my day or my week even. When I get sad, I think about the little moments we shared, and what I can do to make them more. And then I get happy.

**So there it is, guys. Tell me what you thought of this chapter!**

**-Cupcake**


	2. Chapter 2: Meet Katniss Everdeen

**Hey guys, I'm back. I hope I didn't make you wait too long, but here is my longest chapter yet, and you guys get to meet my Katniss. She is slightly more aware of Peeta's affections for her, as well as her own feelings. She is also a tad more understanding of her mother's mental illness. I gave her a bit of a remodeling in terms of how she earns her way. Also featuring a not so nice Gale. Ooh la la! Thanks to all my amazing reviewers, favorites, and followers. Thanks to my inspirational betareader, the lovely , who offered a lot of support and advice on this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I really don't. **

**girlygirl88: I'm so glad you like it! Here's the next chapter for ya! Do you have an account on fanfiction? What is it?**

_**MEET KATNISS EVERDEEN**_

I wouldn't necessarily call myself a recluse. More like reserved. Quiet. Subtle. I'm not Little Miss Chatterbox either. I avoid people because I have to. Sure, I would like to have friends, but no one _wants_ to be my friend. I've made sure of that by never talking except in assembly. And then it's all "Oh my gawd, Katniss I never knew you were _that_ talented" or "Well, it appears that the Seam slut does actually have a use." I have to admit that the compliments [however small] do feel nice, but I know that no one _really _cares. Well, no one except Peeta Mellark, but let's just say he doesn't count, alright?

I could never be friends with Peeta Mellark. First off, I owe him.

Before the bread incident, I was dying, living off stale leftovers in the kitchen cupboards and worrying about how to survive. My father had died just two months before and my mom hadn't answered any of my screamed questions. So I was left to fend for myself. I went to try and sell of some old baby clothes of Prim's. It was raining out, and starting to hail. I had been out of doors for over two hours. I felt my life flash before my eyes as I slumped down under an apple tree in front of the Mellark Bakery. _This is it,_ I thought. _This is the end._ Through my self-pity and slow heartbeat pounding in my ears.I heard a demanding voice telling a little boy to go throw out some bread that was burnt. My half open eyes saw a stern-looking blond woman step out into the cold followed by a chubby blond boy with ruddy cheeks and fat golden ringlets.

Peeta.

He looked me straight in the eyes, which were currently struggling to stay open. At that, point, I was about to lose conscientiousness. I knew my life was drawing to a close. But truth being told, that was when my life actually started.

Although his gesture was kind, his aim was terrible. The bread went everywhere and split in half. He even managed to get it into a puddle. But not just any puddle. The puddle in front of Greasy Sae's, the local cabaret. At this point, I was half mad with hunger and gratitude, so I took the burnt bread in my arms and started to cradle it. Through my desperation and delirium, I started singing to it, as if I was swaddling a crying newborn. Who knew, at just that perfect moment,that Greasy Sae was coming out for a smoke break?

She dropped her unlit cigarette and stared at me in awe. I continued to sing my little song, a tune about a woman, asking her lover to come away with her in the night, to come away with her to a life filled with shared solitude and tall grass and cloudy days but also with love and compassion and devotion. I let the low timbre of my voice wrap around my whole being like a soft blanket, warming my cold skin and healing my tortured soul from this never ending nightmare. I had been singing a lot lately, mostly to myself. I didn't know about my voice yet, only that my Papa took pleasure in listening to me sing old, low songs, meant for people much older than me. I suppose I like my voice as well; I haven't had anything to compare it to in a long while. Momma threw out all his old records after he died in the mines, despite my begging and pleading with her. And of course I've never had a voice lesson. I suppose I just let the music teach me.

Anyway, Sae took me inside and let me eat my self-allotted portion of bread [which wasn't very much at all] at the counter, along with a complementary cup of mint tea. After I was done, Sae asked me to sing my song for her again. I guess something about my voice really wowed her. Before I knew it, I was singing in front of the cabaret, trying to draw in customers. I was there five times a week, six if you count the open mike night that my fellow staff usually coerces me into. Greasy Sae's had been my escape, and Sae and the employees there like a family. My teachers took notice of my "distinctive tonality" [Sae's word's, not mine] and invited/forced me to sing at our bi-monthly assemblies and at sporting events. I always saw Peeta at the wrestling matches, and he'd smile real big when I got up there and sang the National Anthem. He's always talking about how good I am up there to his friends and even if they just nod or roll their eyes, he doesn't care. No one really pays attention to my singing except Peeta. But he's worth a hundred people.

But, looking back on it, I sang for another reason, too. To drown out the sound of slaps against skin. Rude curses. I sang to cover the blatant, unabashed abuse of a young boy who was just trying to assuage my hunger, desperate to see it end. And for a while, it did smother the sounds, softened the blow. But when the music stopped, it was still there. It had still happened. And that's when I felt an overwhelming amount of sadness.

Because Peeta Mellark had fixed my problem, but I couldn't even come up with a temporary solution to his. Because even though he might have heard my pretty song and drawn comfort from it, he still had those scars. The following week he didn't show his face at school. I knew it was to hide the violent nature of his mother's wrath. My guilt prevents me from ever approaching him.

It's no secret that Violet Mellark won't be winning Mother of the Year Award anytime soon. She hides behind a thin veneer of kindness in public, but everyone knows just how vile she actually is. She seems not to know or care that others take notice of her obvious cruelty. I guess that just proves how awful she really is. Peeta didn't come back to school for a week after that day, and even then he still had bruises on his face

There's another reason Peeta Mellark and I aren't meant to be friends. Gale would never let me have any contact with him.

Let me explain my relationship with Gale. Before my father died, I had a good amount of friends. I was well liked and somewhat popular. My little group enjoyed my company and we all played together frequently. Gale was my next-door neighbor, and often came over for family dinners. He was invited to all my birthday gatherings and I was somewhat friendly towards him. But Gale being two years older and already more of a loner than I am now, he was a hard kid to get close to.

But after my father died, we became a different type of family. Gone was the happy family who, despite their lot in life, was just thankful to be alive. They were replaced by a girl who would rather be dead, a mother who essentially was, and a little girl who would be if someone didn't pull it together. After a few years, my mom came out of her funk and started contributing more to our income. She became a nursing assistant at an old folks home, which didn't rake in a whole lot of cash, but combined with my salary we were able to make it work.

But something has broken between us. I still love her, but I can no longer depend on anyone but myself. She's just another mouth to feed at this point. She fell into this deep depression after Papa's death, and I didn't know what to do. After a while I just gave up on trying to fix her problems and focused on mine: becoming the family's sole breadwinner. We're still digging ourselves out of the hole she dug us into. And she knows it too.

After my father's death, I lost all my light. It died in that mine along with my father, Gale's, and a hundred others who met their untimely end. I started to ignore my friends and I had to let our home phone service go after a few months of not paying any bills. The next year we all started middle school, and the sudden urge to be well-liked by everyone kicked in, and my former friends being nice and fairly attractive, started to build up their reputations as a rag-tag group of misfits who everyone generally liked. I was left alone, because that's what I wanted, or I used to want. I started hanging around Gale that year, even though he was an eighth grader. Looking back on it, I think I only did it because he was the only one who understood my need to be alone. He was mostly a warm body to me, someone to sit with and partner up with during projects. After that one year, he left for high school, and by the time I got there, he had already dropped out to go to technical school up north. Now all I had were the occasional smiles and waves from Peeta. I didn't really care anyway. Over the last couple months of my first year at middle school, he was bitter that he had to go to technical boarding school and had become controlling and mean. He even slapped me once. I talk to him on the phone a lot still, sometimes for hours, but nothing is really ever said.

He strongly disapproves of my singing, and he vocalizes this thought rather frequently. But something happened last night that I'm not really sure about. Sure, we've been friends for years, and I'm the only one he's kept in contact with besides his family, but I always feel like he's almost never nice to me, and when he is, he always wants something from me.

Gale asked me to be his girlfriend last night.

It wasn't a very long conversation at all. He was all, "Katniss, I really like you, and I want you to be my girl, m'kay?" You know, kind of telling me, not asking me? Of course, me being me, I said no. I was applying for that CAMP scholarship along with Prim and I was planning on leaving here even if I didn't get it. So I said, "Gale, I don't like you like that and even if I did, I'm leaving here soon, and I don't plan on staying in touch with you when I do." It was blunt, but necessary. Gale had gotten worse and worse, berating me on the phone and forcing all his problems on me. I had given up far too much to receive so little return. It had taken looking back on my experience with Peeta and his heinous mother to realize that my relationship with Gale was the opposite of healthy. I cut all ties with him that night, and even though I now had no one, I felt more complete than I had in a while.

CAMP Scholarship Program was calling tonight. And I literally couldn't wait for them to call me, whether bringing good or bad news. So I waited and waited and waited. At 2:00 in the morning I was sick and tired of sitting around. _Maybe I should just go to bed._

The minute the thought passed through my mind, the phone rang. CAMP.

"Hello?" I picked up on the first ring while motioning my mother and Prim in to the room.

"Is this the Everdeeeen residence?" a woman with a strange accent trilled. It must be Effie Trinket, I thought to myself.

"Yes." I almost whispered in response.

"Pack your bags, orientation starts on August 5th. Katniss will be majoring in singing, with a minor in dancing and modeling and Primrose will be majoring in dance, with a minor in singing and piano. A full list of all participating will be sent along with your informational packets. Thank you for applying and welcome to CAMP." Click. I immediately told Prim, who squealed excitedly. I just smiled.

I was free.

**That's a wrap, guys. Thanks again to for her betaing work. Next chapter their off to the Capital! Can we make it to 10 reviews? I love you all and I'm really excited about this story.**

**Love,**

**Cupcake.**


End file.
